A Line In The Sand
by lineintheXsand
Summary: AU futurefic, set about...5 years in the future. Only same couple from movieplay is MJ. What happens when Mark is the one in trouble, and Roger has to do the saving?


PostRENT…Mimi did **not** die however, as will be explained, she and Roger did not end up staying together.

JoMo, MimiOC, MarkOC, RogerOC, and… CollinsOC. That's right.

Disclaimer: Clearly, I do not own RENT and if Jonathan Larson –GOD BLESS THAT MAN'S SOUL!- were alive, I would certainly be obligated to run up and hug him until he couldn't breathe. Ooh, RENT. )

**Chapter One**

He hated this. Even if he had been awake for only ten minutes, he hated feeling this sick this early in the morning. Or at all. Especially on days when there was no one there to at least make sure his cold, dead body was no longer in the loft by the time Mark or Collins showed up.

"Mark? Roger?" Roger blew his breath out in relief, slowly sitting up and wincing as everything spun a few times.

"Ava?" He called back softly, wondering briefly if Mark was still sleeping in the room next door. After a few seconds he decided that really, it didn't matter, because Mark could sleep through a hurricane anyway. Roger padded over to the door slowly, wrapping his hands in the too-long sleeves of his beaten sweatshirt, too-big flannel pants bagging on his hips, shivering in the lack of heat due to Benny and his ability to be an ass.

"Hey, Rog –you look like shit."

"Are we breaking up?" He teased lightly, coughing absently into the sweatshirt.

"No, we're kicking your ass for not being in bed huddled under mounds of blankets." The petite, blonde girl glanced into his room. "Meaning the _one _you have in here. You don't have any other blankets?" Roger simply shrugged.

"Mark was drunk and cold last night." Ava glared at him.

"Mark is drunk and cold _every_ night. That's what _happens_ when you're fucking eighty pounds and drink a six pack _by your self_, Mister Rock Star. Now, shall I be repeating my orders to you to _get in bed_?" Roger stared, amused, at the girl who he'd come to love.

"But I'm _hungry_." He argued, coughing again.

"You're also a pain in the ass. And so is your stupid roommate. What the hell is wrong with him lately, anyway?" Roger ignored her, walking unsteadily into the common area of the loft, immediately dropping onto the couch as his energy disappeared.

"Ava? Sit with me?" She bit her lip, glancing around the loft worriedly.

"I thought you were hungry."

"I'm more cold than hungry." She sighed but smiled, curling up on the couch next to him, wrapping the single blanket from his bed around the two of them, wrapping her own hands in her too-long sweatshirt sleeves. He brushed her curls out of her face as she leaned across him, wrapping her arms around his other arm.

"You should be in bed. Resting. With lots of blankets." She whispered in his ear, wincing as he coughed into his sleeve again.

"This is better." They sat in silence for a few minutes, him running his hand through her hair.

"Roger." She whispered. "We have to do something about Mark. You have to talk to him." He groaned, immediately regretting it when the pain censors in his throat attacked him.

"Why do _I _have to talk to him? I _have_ talked to him. He refuses to talk back."

"Because I've already tried everything I can think of. He's killing himself and he's taking you down with him, which I can guarantee you would start a chain reaction. See? He's pulling all of us down." She giggled lightly, looking into his eyes.

"I know. But there's nothing I can do. I-" He was cut off by the banging on the door, followed by the arrival of the rest of their Bohemian clan.

"Ew, guys, shouldn't you be doing it in Roger's bed room?" Maureen announced, dropping onto the chair excitedly.

"Where's Mark?" Joanne asked, sitting on the arm of Maureen's chair.

"Sleeping off a hangover." Ava replied sourly, standing up. Roger scowled at her.

"What part of 'cold' didn't you understand?" He asked bitterly, pulling the blanket tighter around himself and sticking his tongue out at his girlfriend, provoking another coughing fit. Her brow wrinkled in concern as she looked at him.

"Go back to bed, Roger, _please_. You're all gross and germy anyway."

"I am not. I'm still hungry. And _cold._ Fucking Benny." She smiled at him as he ranted on about Benny's flaws, then looked up worriedly at Mimi, her boyfriend Chaz, Collins, and his boyfriend Parker.

"Maybe you guys shouldn't be here. Exposing yourself to his germy self."

"Shut up, Mother." Collins teased, sliding onto the couch with Roger, Mimi, Parker, and Chaz neatly arranging themselves in the living area. Ava rolled her eyes, wandering into the kitchen.

"Fine, fine, what do you want to eat? We have- hey, are these _eggs_?" She looked excitedly back to the couch, where Roger was nodding his answer.

"Real eggs, I swear to God. And the milk is good still, too." Roger told her, looking proud of himself. She grinned.

"Real eggs. God damn." She set about cooking them to everyone's liking, then dispensed them evenly among the seven people arranged neatly on the sofa and armchair. Then, knocking quietly, she entered Mark's room with dry cereal and a large glass of water.

"What's she doing?" Mimi whispered.

"Bringing Mark breakfast. He doesn't eat if you don't make him. I think she figures that if she shoves three meals down his throat every day, he won't get as drunk. I told her he'd just spend more money on more beer when trying to get drunk, but she likes to think Mark still has a soul." Roger sighed, picking at the scrambled eggs on his plate, suddenly realizing he wasn't really hungry.

"Mark. You have to eat." Ava's tired voice came from Mark's room.

"I don't _have _to do anything. You don't even live here, Ava! Get out!" Collins winced as Mark snapped at the young girl.

"I may not live here, but Roger does. Which means I'm going to be here. Which means I have to put up with you coming home at four in the morning drunk and being bitchy to the rest of us whenever we see you. Can't you just eat the damn cereal for the rest of us?" The sounds of blankets being shuffled around could be heard, and then Mark's annoyed voice.

"Hangover food."

"Are you telling me you don't have a hangover? I don't want to have to clean vomit off my clothes in ten minutes. Maybe if you would stop drinking so much-"

"Fuck off, Ava." Roger watched as his girlfriend slammed Mark's door, then as she hid her anger. She sat on the arm of the couch next to Roger, pulling her knees up and resting her chin on her hands.

"He doesn't mean it." Maureen announced, playing with her hair, looking at Ava. The small blonde shrugged.

"Whatever."

"Anyway, we're going to the Life Café. You kids coming?" Roger and Ava looked at each other until he dropped her gaze, beginning to cough again.

"I take that as a no." Collins immediately suggested, standing up and taking Parker's hand. "Let's leave them to play dirty nurse by themselves then, shall we? We'll be around later, guys, and Roger- feel better." Maureen burst out laughing, pulling Joanne to her feet and following the rest of the group outside. Ava looked back at Roger, smiling, but he simply continued to cough.

"Go to fucking bed, Roger!" He stuck his tongue out at her and she slipped off the couch, reaching for her denim jacket.

"Where are you going?" He asked, standing and staggering a little. She put a hand on his shoulder, guiding him towards his bedroom and trying to subtly support his weight.

"To get some stuff. Blankets, soup, some cough medicine. I'll be back, my place isn't that far away." He sighed and sat down on the bed, resting his head in his hands. She kissed his forehead, frowning at the slight heat he was radiating.

"Thanks, Ava. I love you." He muttered, turning and lying down on the bed. She covered him with the thin blanket.

"Love you too." She whispered, quietly leaving the loft and starting down the stairs. She searched her pockets for money and came up with ten dollars. Blowing her breath out, she started the fifteen-block walk down to her apartment, on her way stopping to pick up the soup and cough medicine she had promised. Once she had gathered the blankets from her apartment and taken fifty dollars, Ava stopped at the store and picked up an obscenely large box of hot chocolate and a bag of twizzlers.

It hadn't always been like that. Oh sure, they had always been dirt poor –even before she had come to Alphabet City and gotten pulled into the pseudo family of Bohemians she'd been pretty broke – but once upon a time, they had all been happy. Mimi and Chaz, Collins and Parker, Maureen and Joanne –for once-, Mark and Heather, and she and Roger. The ten of them, lounging around the loft while drinking and playing stupid games, worrying about the rent only a little because Roger was now bringing in pay, being caught on film.

Heather didn't come around anymore. Not since Mark cheated on her and she exploded in his face. Even if it had sucked seeing Mark getting verbally bitch-slapped, he had deserved it. And then, one day, he threw his camera off the fire escape and started coming home drunk, saying things just to upset them, blaming her and Roger for driving Heather away.

She pulled the loft door open without bothering to knock. Mark probably wouldn't let her in if she had, and she didn't want to disrupt Roger if he was still sleeping. To her dismay, Roger was sitting on the couch looking frazzled.

"What's up?" She asked worriedly, leaving the bag of groceries on the counter and walking over with a couple blankets. He shook his head, accepting one as she sat down next to him. He put his arm around her, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Mark and his usual bitchy self. Nothing new." She glanced at the clock; she'd been gone for two hours.

"What time did Mark leave?" Maybe she could still catch him before he was totally smashed.

"Ten minutes after you did." She shuddered. It was only noon. "You may not be HIV positive, but that doesn't mean you're totally immune to my germs. Maybe we shouldn't be this close."

"Whatever. If I get sick, you have to take care of me." She sighed and he smiled.

"You don't get sick often, anyway, do you?" She shook her head. "Good. I hate taking care of sick people." She laughed.

"You're such a bitch."

"God knows. Oh, blankets! You're definitely an angel." She snuggled closer to him, feeling him shivering.

"I know. But seriously, you need to sleep."

"I was going to wait until Mark came back." He admitted, coughing again.

"Don't. I'll wait for him. Just go to sleep, please? For me?" He groaned but didn't object, standing unsteadily and shuffling into the bedroom, laden with newly acquired blankets.

She hadn't meant to fall asleep, really, but working late last night had left her tired. Luckily, Mark had forgotten all about manners and slammed the loft door when arriving. Ava was instantly on her feet, staring at the blonde-headed man.

"You're still here." He stated dully.

"You're still drunk." She smirked, then softened her voice. "Please, Mark, let us help you. It doesn't have to be like this, it-" She dropped off when he hit her, knocking her against the door, slicing open the right side of her face.

"Sorry Ava. This is _exactly _how it's gotta be."

_Perhaps in the next couple chapters I will explain time. Because I just realized this chapter is lacking…all of it. Time, I mean. Like, seriously. WOW._


End file.
